


Post-Possession

by PennyLane



Category: The Real Ghostbusters
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-18 00:16:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/873536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PennyLane/pseuds/PennyLane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Tag to "Mrs. Rogers' Neighborhood"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Post-Possession

  
"Peter's still asleep."

There was enough worry in Ray's voice to draw Egon's attention away from the notes he had been entering into his computer on their most recent bust, the demon Watt, and transfer it to the man standing in the doorway.

"He's been sleeping an awful long time," the occultist continued, a frown playing at his youthful features. "Do you think we ought to wake him for supper? He hardly ate anything for lunch."

Before answering, Egon switched off the computer and left his lab to cross the hallway and stand at the bedroom door. A thoughtful frown creased his face as he studied the sleeping form of Peter Venkman sprawled on his four-poster

After his possession by Watt earlier that day, Peter had experienced a brief surge of anger-induced energy, during which he chased Slimer nearly two city blocks before suddenly collapsing. The little green ghost had sped back to Ghostbuster Central, wringing his hands and babbling so excitedly that the only word they could understand was 'Peter'. It was enough. They piled into Ecto-1 and, with Slimer leading the way, had found the psychologist slumped on the sidewalk, propped against a mailbox. Venkman had been nursing a massive headache and was so far out of it that Egon doubted he even remembered being brought back to the firehouse and put to bed. Peter had roused, reluctantly and briefly at lunch time and, at Ray's insistence, managed to eat a few bites of food before falling asleep again. He had been like this ever since, more unconscious than asleep from appearances.

Quietly entering the darkened room, Egon walked over to stand beside the slumbering man, gently sliding a hand under the tangled brown hair to rest it on his friend's forehead. After a few moments, he transferred his hand to Venkman's wrist to check his pulse. Satisfied, he carefully pulled the covers up a little higher over the unmoving form, tucked than in securely, then withdrew.

"No fever," he told Ray in a whisper, "and his pulse is normal. I believe he's just physically exhausted from the effects of his struggle with Watt and the transmutation he experienced from the possession. I think sleep is probably the best thing for him right now."

Ray didn't look particularly reassured by the diagnosis, but he reluctantly nodded his concession. "All right." The auburn-haired man lingered in the open doorway, his eyes resting on their friend. "I thought we lost him today, Egon," he said softly. "I really thought...."

Laying a hand on the younger man's shoulder, Spengler gave it an understanding squeeze. "I know." His gaze returned to the tousled thatch of brown hair and pale face just visible above the covers. He still had a too--vivid picture in his own mind of Peter -- their Peter -- struggling with all his strength to break free of the evil entity that had taken control of his body. It had been a hopeless fight; Egon had known that from the beginning. No single human could have withstood the force of such a powerful demon. But that hadn't stopped Peter from trying. Seeing their friend safe now in his own bed, and free from the danger that had so nearly taken him from them, made it almost possible to forget it ever happened. Almost. Egon feared he would carry the mental image of that struggle in his mind for a very long time.

"So did I." Pulling his eyes away, he gently turned Stantz away from the doorway. "He'll be fine, Ray," he said in his most reassuring voice. "Just give him some time to get his strength back and get his feet back under him. By tomorrow morning, he'll probably have forgotten all about Watt."

That coaxed a small smile from the occultist. "I guess you're right. Tomorrow's laundry day; I can just hear him now. He'll probably find some way to use Watt as an excuse to get out of his chores."

"Without a doubt," Egon agreed dryly.

Then the humor faded from Stantz' face and his brown eyes filled with distress. "It must have been awful for him, Egon. You know how Peter is; he hates to lose control over a situation. Think how he must have felt, being trapped inside his own body while Watt took over."

Egon had been thinking of little else. No matter how occupied he had tried to keep himself, the memory of his friend's agonized scream at the instant Watt finally won the battle and suppressed Peter's stubbornly resistant spirit, kept slashing through his mind. He could not begin to imagine how terrifying the experience must have been for him. Actually, he was relieved the psychologist was still sleeping, and he hoped Peter kept sleeping for a while longer. He wanted his friend to regain as much strength as possible before facing his own memories of his ordeal with Watt.

"I know, Raymond," Spengler said finally. "But it's behind him now, and we'll all be here to help him deal with it if he needs us." And if he lets us, he added silently, knowing how Venkman could slip on one mask for the world to see while he struggled through a crisis on his own. Egon wasn't sure Peter could make it through this one alone; but neither was he sure Venkman would allow them to help. With a grim smile, he admitted to himself why he had spent the whole afternoon in his lab and why he had no intention of leaving while Peter was still asleep.

"Winston has dinner ready," Ray announced, as if reading his thoughts.

"I'm not really hungry," he said casually. "I think I'll just keep on working. I still have some notes to finish, and there's some research on a rare strain of fungus I've been meaning to do...."

His brown eyes warm with understanding, Ray reached out and squeezed his arm. "I'll bring you something, anyway. If you're not hungry, you don't have to eat it." As he headed for the door, Stantz called over his shoulder, "Let me know if you want a break. I've got a couple of proton packs to service; I could do that up here." Pausing in the doorway, he turned to face Egon, a knowing smile on his lips. "I don't mind taking a turn -- and neither does Winston."

Slowly, Egon felt an answering smile curve his lips. "I know. We'll make sure one of us is close by until we're sure he's all right."

The younger man nodded, but glanced over his shoulder toward the bedroom door. "He is going to be all right, isn't he?" Looking back at the physicist, Ray's face was troubled. "I don't mean physically. I mean, once he has time to think about what happened to him. Watt made him open the containment unit."

"It could have been any one of us," Spengler reminded him. "And none of us could have resisted an entity as powerful as Watt."

Stantz gave him a discerning look. "I know that," he said steadily, "but will Peter?"

For a moment, Egon's eyes locked with Ray's solemn ones, and he recognized the same concern that he felt himself. "We'll make certain of it," he said firmly and saw the answering spark of resolution in Ray's eyes.

"Darn right we will," Stantz agreed and turned and left the roan.

But even with their combined determination, Egon knew it might not be that easy. Pushing that thought aside for now, he returned to his computer and picked up his entries where he had left off.

*****

  
It had been a quiet evening. Winston had settled down to a new mystery novel, Ray had retired to the basement lab after supper to work on those proton packs, and he had stayed in his lab, keeping occupied while keeping an ear tuned for any sounds from the bedroom. It was after nine when he finally completed his work and switched off the computer. He had just removed his glasses to rub his tired eyes when he heard mumbling coming from the bedroom. Jumping to his feet, he hurried across the hall and stopped in the bedroom doorway, taking in the scene at a glance.

Perspiration had broken out on Peter's face and his dark hair was damp and plastered to his forehead. He had thrown the covers aside and was moving restlessly, his hands balled into fists. He looked mad as hell and scared to death at the same time. If Egon had any doubts about what nightmare held Peter in its throes, they vanished immediately.

The psychologist twisted suddenly, his handsome features contorting into a grimace. "No! I won't! I won't!"

His lips tightening, Spengler quickly crossed the room and eased down onto the side of the bed. "Peter." Reaching out, he grasped the thrashing man by the arms to hold him still. "Peter," he repeated, more firmly. "Wake up. It's just a dream. _Wake up_!" He punctuated this last order with a little shake; the brown-haired man gave a gasp, then stiffened. "Peter," Egon urged, gently this time, "it's Egon. You were having a nightmare."

Slowly, Venkman's eyelids fluttered, then opened, revealing emerald eyes glassy with sleep and confusion. He stared at Egon for several moments, then sighed, his eyes again sliding shut. "Wasn't a dream," he mumbled. "It was a memory."

The physicist nodded in sympathy. "I know," he said, tightening his fingers in support.

Peter flinched at the touch, his eyes flying open. Stunned, Egon let his hands drop away and sat back a little, eying Venkman closely.

The psychologist averted his head, refusing to meet the older man's gaze. "Time is it?" he asked, his voice raspy from sleep.

"Just after nine."

"A.M. or P.M.?"

Spengler looked at him a moment, then realized he was serious. Peter was obviously so disoriented he really didn't know. "P.M.," he answered. "Same day. You've slept since this afternoon."

Venkman grimaced as he sat up and ran his fingers through his tangled hair. "Doesn't feel like it." Suddenly he shivered. "Cold in here."

The physicist glanced around at the closed windows. If anything, it was a little warm and stuffy. "Possibly an aftereffect of the possession," he mused, pulling the discarded blankets back over Venkman's legs.

"Yeah," Peter muttered bitterly, "like this headache."

Even in the darkened room, lit only by the light of the bedside lamp by his own bed, Egon could see new little lines of strain around the psychologist's mouth and the dulled pain in his eyes. "I'll get you some aspirin," he offered promptly and immediately went into the bathroom to fetch the painkiller. When he came back, Peter had maneuvered himself over the side of the bed, a blanket wrapped tightly around him, his head in his hands.

He barely seemed to notice when Egon sat beside him, but finally roused enough to down the aspirin with a mumbled thanks. He pulled the blanket a little tighter around himself, then ground the heels of his palms into his eyes. "Damn. Feels like my head's gonna explode."

"Maybe you should try to get some more sleep."

"Not sleepy."

"Then perhaps you should eat something."

"Not hungry."

Egon hesitated. "Peter, if you'd like to talk...."

The brown-haired man shot him a sideways glance. "Maybe later," he hedged, but there was no invitation in his voice to continue the topic.

Spengler was again going to broach the top of food when approaching footsteps brought his head up. Both Ray and Winston were standing in the doorway, relief lighting their faces.

"Peter!" Ray broke into a huge smile "You're awake!"

"Yeah, Ray, I'm awake," Venkman acknowledged, an edge to his voice. "And so far it doesn't have much to recommend it."

Winston was grinning, but there was concern evident in the back of his dark eyes. "Good to have you back, homeboy."

Stantz hurried into the room, worry plain on his face. "How are you feeling? Would you like something to eat? Can I get you anything?"

"Like crap, no, and a new head," Peter answered testily.

The occultist's brown eyes warmed with sympathy. "Oh, Peter." He automatically laid a land on the psychologist's slumped shoulder, then froze when Venkman suddenly shot to his feet.

The blanket fell unheeded to the floor as Peter quickly stepped out from under the touch. "I appreciate the concern," he snapped, "but would you all just give me a little space and back off!"

Eyebrows raised, Egon got slowly to his feet, his gaze never leaving Peter's face. Winston's face was a mask of barely concealed surprise and Ray's eyes were wide with bewilderment and guilt.

"I'm sorry, Peter," he apologized. "I didn't mean to bother you --"

"You're not bothering me," Venkman said quickly, guilt flashing across his face. He rubbed his forehead with a weary sigh. "I'm the one who's sorry. Just bear with me, okay? I've got this monster headache and I'm not thinking straight. I didn't mean to snap at you like that."

"I know," Ray said instantly, Venkman's outburst already forgotten as far as he was concerned. "It's okay." Then his smile faded, his brows puckering in a worried frown. "Peter, you're shaking."

The psychologist studied his trembling hands grimly. "I know. I can't seem to get warm." As if to punctuate that statement, a violent shiver suddenly coursed through his body and he wrapped his arms around his chest. "I think I'm going to take a long, hot shower."

"I think that's a good idea," Egon agreed. "Perhaps afterward you'll feel like eating something."

Before Venkman could open his mouth to protest, the occultist jumped in, eager to do something to help. "I'll go fix you something, Peter. You'll feel a lot better after you get some hot food into you."

The psychologist threw Egon a look, but refrained from protesting ... as Egon had known he would. Venkman's temper could be unpredictable -- especially when he wasn't feeling well -- but Peter had always been more than careful with Ray. He and Winston could have probably prepared Peter a gourmet meal with no results at all. But if Ray went to the trouble to fix him something to eat -even a peanut butter sandwich -- Peter would no doubt make an effort to eat it so as not to hurt the younger man's feelings.

Venkman sounded tired but resigned to Ray's efforts. "Thanks, Ray." Without another word, he turned and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving the other Ghostbusters standing in the bedroom, staring at the closed door.

"What's wrong with him, Egon?" Ray asked quietly.

Egon hesitated before answering. "I'm afraid the possession took more out of him than we thought," he said finally.

But Ray shook his head, still staring at the closed door. "No," he said definitely, "it's more than that."

Winston nodded agreement. "We've all seen Pete at less than his best," he said seriously, "but this is something else."

"I'm sure he'll be fine once he warms up and eats something," Egon replied automatically, wondering who he was trying to convince -- his friends or himself.

Ray's worried hazel eyes met his. "I hope you're right," he said, and left to prepare Peter's supper.

Spengler turned to stare at the closed bathroom door, listening to the shower running inside. "So do I, Raymond," he said softly. "So do I."

"Egon."

A touch on his arm brought him around and he found himself staring into a pair of dark, solemn eyes. "You're really worried about him, aren't you?"

Egon hesitated a moment before answering, then reluctantly nodded. "We don't know enough about possession or the possible aftereffects, Winston. Watt's possession was brief, but it was very intense."

Zeddemore frowned. "You think it might have caused some sort of permanent damage?"

"Physically, I believe he's simply exhausted from the experience. But psychologically and emotionally...." Spengler shook his head, frustrated at his helplessness. "I just don't know."

Winston seemed to consider that for a moment, then clapped the physicist lightly on the shoulder. "Peter's pretty tough," he stated. "If anyone can work through this, it's him."

Spengler nodded, forcing himself to share Winston's confidence. "You're right, of course. Perhaps my worry is groundless." Turning again to stare at the closed bathroom door, he added silently: And perhaps not.

Forty minutes later, the three Ghostbusters were still waiting for Peter to make his appearance in the kitchen. Egon looked at Ray, who was listlessly stirring the makings of an omelet, then got to his feet. "I'll go see what's keeping him."

The bedroom was empty, as was the bathroom. From the thick coating of steam on the window and mirror, and the number of damp towels left on the floor, it must have been a long shower. Egon stood in the humid bathroom for a moment, pondering Peter's whereabouts. He hadn't gone downstairs or they would have heard him. And if he didn't go down ... that meant he went up. With a sigh, Egon headed for the stairs that led to the roof.

The physicist spotted Peter as soon as he opened the door and stepped onto the roof. Venkman was pacing back and forth against the Manhattan skyline, hands in his pockets, hunched over as if he were still freezing, even though he was dressed in a sweatsuit. Even from that distance, Egon could see the periodic shudders that racked his wiry frame. The warm spring air touched his skin, and Egon felt a new pang of concern; whatever was causing Venkman's bouts of shivering, it wasn't the weather.

"Peter?" he called softly.

The brown-haired man snapped around, his body stiffening. When he recognized Spengler, he turned away in disgust. "Egon, for cryin' out loud," he complained irritably. "Knock, why don't you?"

"We were getting worried about you," Spengler continued, moving over to stand beside the younger man in an effort to still his restless pacing. "I didn't expect to find you on the roof."

Venkman's shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. "I needed to get some air." A flicker of pain passed over his tightly--drawn features. "Damn this headache," he muttered.

Sensing that sympathy would not be welcomed, or produce the desired results, Egon firmly quashed his instinctive reactions and simply cleared his throat. "This could be fascinating, Peter," he stated in his best professional tones. "We now have firsthand knowledge of the effects of a possession on a human."

The statement produced the hoped-for reaction, and Peter threw him a look that was equal parts annoyance and exasperation. "Think there's a paper somewhere in all this, Spengs?"

He ignored the asperity in Peter's tone. "Perhaps. Why don't you tell me about it?" Egon continued, trying to sound casual. "For instance, what are the physical effects of post--possession?"

Peter took a long time before answering. "Headache," he said finally. "At least a Class Seven. Muscle cramps. I'm sore all over. Exhaustion. I feel like I've just run the Boston Marathon -- twice." He turned away slightly so Egon couldn't see his face, and continued in a flat monotone, "Disorientation. Nausea. Inability to get warm. Some dizziness."

Shocked by the cool recital, and the sheer number, of physical ailments, Egon automatically reached out to lay a comforting hand on the psychologist's arm, but drew back at the last minute, remembering his friend's reaction earlier. "I didn't know it was so bad, Peter. I'm sorry."

Again the younger man shrugged. "No biggie. I'm okay." That statement was so patently untrue that Spengler had to resist the urge to take Peter by the shoulders and shake him. "Besides, it could have been worse."

Egon frowned. "How?"

Venkman took a deep, unsteady breath. "It could have been Ray."

The physicist winced as that possible scenario flashed through his mind. If it was this bad for Peter, a man who was trained in matters of the mind, who could dissociate himself from his emotions and clinically analyze his reactions, how bad would it have been for Ray, whose emotions sometimes overwhelmed him?

"Or you," Peter continued, almost to himself.

Egon shuddered involuntarily at the thought of that evil entity invading his body, suppressing not only his intellect, but his very essence. He closed his eyes briefly, almost swamped by the compassion he felt for his friend. That was exactly what Peter had gone through. For a man as proud, stubborn, and spirited as Peter Venkman, that feeling of helplessness must have been unbearable.

Gritting his teeth, he resumed his detached tone with an effort, knowing from long experience that it was the only way he was going to get through to Peter. And he needed to get through to him. He sensed a building tension inside his friend, a desperate need to come to grips with what had happened to him, and he wasn't sure Venkman could do it alone. Peter rarely sought help when he was going through a crisis; his usual method of dealing with personal trauma was to pull all his emotions inside and seal them off from the rest of the world. Perhaps that was why, over the years, Egon had become so attuned to his friend's unspoken needs.

"Those are the physical effects," Spengler continued, his tone coated in deliberate casualness. "But tell me how the actual possession felt." Peter stiffened suddenly and Egon felt his own muscles tense as he forced himself to continue. "For instance, how did it feel when Watt invaded your body and --"

Venkman whirled around to face him, his features twisted in a combination of anger and betrayal. "How did it feel? That thing violated me! It suffocated me! It took over my body and my mind!" Trembling from a combination of unearthly cold and unbearable outrage, Peter's voice broke. "How did it feel? It felt like I was raped! That's how it felt! Is that what you wanted to hear, Doctor?"

Realizing too late that he had badly underestimated both Peter's reactions to the possession and the trauma of the whole experience, Egon gazed at his friend in open sorrow. "No, Peter," he said softly, his voice filled with pain. "That is not what I wanted to hear." In a deliberate move, he gently wrapped his long fingers around the younger man's arms.

Venkman flinched visibly and tried to pull back. "Egon -- don't. I can still feel -- I can still remember how it felt --"

Instead of letting go, Egon tightened his grip. He remembered, too. He remembered how hard Watt had fought as they struggled to separate the entity from Peter. And he remembered his own chilling fear when Watt had screamed, 'No, you can't have him back! I won't let you!' "I'm not going to let him win, Peter. Do you hear me? We fought to get you back from Watt, and I'm not going to lose you now. Remember that." Slowly, gently, he released the psychologist's arms and forced himself to take a step back. "We want to help you through this," he continued, his eyes never leaving the younger man's face. "Please don't shut us out."

Peter's emerald eyes flicked away. In the soft illumination under the outside lights, Egon could see Venkman's jaw tighten. "I didn't want to drag you guys into this. I thought I could get through it myself...." He threw Spengler a glare that dissolved when their eyes locked. "Damn you anyway, Egon."

Moving closer again, the physicist lightly laid his hands on Venkman's shoulders, holding his breath as he waited for the younger man's reaction. When Venkman didn't back away this time, Egon gathered him carefully into a gentle embrace. Peter resisted at first, then sagged against him with a sigh that was almost a sob, his arms encircling the taller man's waist in a fierce, answering squeeze. Egon rested his head against Peter's, tightening his own arms.

"As if we would let you go through this alone," he murmured. They stood on the roof, silhouetted against the night sky, holding one another as a warm breeze brushed their skin. Occasionally Egon would feel Peter's body tremble, and he would immediately shift his position to offer more body heat to help him combat the constant, recurring chills. He lost all track of time until Ray's soft voice brought his head up.

"Peter?"

Peter pulled away from Spengler's chest and look around, managing a meager smile for the occultist. "Hey, pal."

Stantz laid a hesitant hand on the psychologist's arm. "I heard," he said softly. "Peter, are you all right?"

The flip words were out of Venkman's mouth before he could stop them. "I think we've come up with a whole new chapter for the psychology text books, Ray. Call it 'post-possession depression'. Or maybe the 'Venkman Syndrome'. What do you think? Maybe we could make some money off this. I'll bet the tabloids would love it --" Peter broke off suddenly, biting his lip as he was confronted by the open caring on the faces of his two friends. It was the undisguised love and support he saw there that was ultimately his undoing. Squeezing his eyes shut, he took a broken breath. "God, I'm glad you guys are here."

That was all Ray needed to hear. Stepping forward, he wrapped his arms around the other man and pulled him into a strong embrace. He didn't say a word; he simply held Peter tight, letting him know through his actions how much they cared and how much he was loved.

As he had with Egon, Peter closed his arms around Ray and hugged him hard, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

It was a long time before Egon heard Peter sigh deeply, then slowly pull back. Ray didn't try to stop him. Instead he loosened his grip, but kept contact by letting his hands slide down the psychologist's arms to squeeze his hands before finally letting go. Peter returned the grip, green eyes shining with gratitude. When Venkman looked around, Winston was standing beside him. Without a word, the black man pulled him into a gentle bearhug.

"There's no way we can ever know what you went through, Pete," he murmured, tightening his arms. "But we're here for you and don't you ever forget that."

"I know." Venkman's voice was a little shaky, but he returned the embrace heartily. "Thanks, Winston." When Zeddemore finally released him, Peter let his gaze rest on each of his friends for a moment, then turned and walked slowly over to the ledge that surrounded the roof. The other three traded a glance, then followed, Ray and Winston taking up a position on one side of Peter and Egon on the other. They all stared out into the night lights of Manhattan, in silence.

"I was aware of what was happening the whole time," Peter blurted suddenly. "I knew everything Watt was doing -- everything he was making me do. It was like he kept pushing me -- my self -- deeper and deeper inside, and I was getting smaller and smaller...." His voice wobbled and he gave his head a sharp shake. "He made me open the containment unit! I couldn't stop him!"

"Of course you couldn't," Egon said immediately. "He was stronger than any single human. No one could have resisted him." Turning, his lips curved in a fond smile, he said, "Although, of all of us, you would have come closest."

Venkman's eyes widened in surprise. "Why...?"

It was Ray who answered, giving Peter a gentle nudge in the ribs. "Because you can do anything when you get mad enough, Peter. And I have never seen you so mad."

A humorless smile touched the brown--haired man's lips. "I was mad," he acknowledged. Then the smile faded as he turned his head to stare into the darkness. "I still am."

Venkman's hands were balled into fists, and he was aimlessly pounding the cement ledge. Spengler covered one fist with his hand, stilling it. "It's normal to be angry, Peter," he said quietly. "But don't hold on to your anger. If you do, it will take control of your life and Watt will have won."

Peter turned his fist under Egon's hand and gave the physicist's fingers a brief squeeze. "I know, Doctor."

"Of course you do," Spengler said quickly. "I just thought --"

"-- That I might not be thinking too clearly right now." Venkman nodded. "You're right. I'm not." Swiveling his head, he threw an innocent look at his friends, the first signs of humor lightening his tone. "That's why I've got you guys, right?"

"I always knew you kept us around for some reason," Egon retorted dryly.

The answering smile on the psychologist's face flickered as he grimaced in a definite reaction to pain.

"Headache still so bad, Pete?" Ray questioned softly.

"Actually, I think the fresh air is helping." Not looking at his friends, Venkman slid both hands into his pockets. "I think I'll stay out here a little longer. I'm not quite ready to go back inside." Drawing himself up a little straighter, he added offhandedly, "You don't have to stay. I'll be fine."

Trading a look with the other two, Egon calmly eased an arm around the psychologist's back and Stantz slid an arm around his waist. Winston maneuvered behind them to clamp both hands on Venkman's shoulders so they had Peter locked securely between them. They could all feel the shuddering tremor that traveled through their friend's body, and Egon tightened his arm, feeling Ray do the same. Peter leaned into the embrace, grateful for both the support and the warmth.

After a few moments, the trembling ceased and Venkman issued a shaky sigh. "Thanks, guys," Peter whispered, the unsteadiness in his voice betraying his exhaustion. "Thanks for being here."

A soft smile touched Ray's face as he gave the older man a gentle shake. 'Where else would we be?"

The answer was obvious, of course, and needed no one to voice it. Pulling his hands out of his pockets, Peter slid his arms around Egon and Ray's backs to anchor them all together. A short time later, like clockwork, Egon felt Venkman brace himself for yet another racking chill. But this time the psychologist rode it out stubbornly. When it finally passed, Peter held his thin a little higher, a faint, triumphant grin touching his lips. "That wasn't so bad," he announced, with a flash of familiar cockiness.

That's when Egon knew it was going to be all right. The experience with Watt had been horrible, the trauma worse than he had imagined. But Peter was fighting his way through it and, with their help and support, he would make it. In a burst of pride, he tightened his arm and gave his friend an affectionate squeeze. It would take more than an underworld demon to suppress the spirit of Peter Venkman.

 

**_< fin>_ **

 


End file.
